Friendly Fire
by VerifiablyInsane
Summary: Connor and Murphy were picked up by Daryl in the woods and brought back to the Rock Quarry to join their little encampment. After the awkwardness of the situation, Connor sees Daryl's existence as a blessing from God that he's not willing to pass up no matter what. Daryl pines for another while Murphy not-so-silently fumes about his brother's new love interest.
1. Chapter 1

Five days. That was how long Connor had been staring at the man who had stolen his brother's face. The two men had barely spoken to each other, save the typical salutations which were only reserved for when they were in front of the rest of the group. But Connor could just not believe what his eyes were seeing.

"Connor, what exactly is ye obsession with that fucker wit' me face?" Murph asked when they were in the woods alone.

"I don't know what yer talkin' 'bout, Murph," he replied, continuing to pick up the needed wood for their fire that evening. It was a simple task that the brothers had taken on when they joined the group at the rock quarry, stumbling upon Daryl out in the woods. Aside from being extremely awkward around the redneck given his face, he deemed them not a real threat and offered to take them back.

"Ye can't stop staring at 'im. I see ye, ye know." Murphy bent down to grab a large branch, nearly dropping everything he had already gathered, but he wouldn't let the topic drop.

Connor shrugged. "He looks exactly like ye, Murph. How could I not stare? It's like he could be yer twin 'stead of me." Really, he just found the other man fascinating and he wanted to know more about him _and_ his damn crossbow, but it was so much more than that and he couldn't tell his Murph that.

Murphy stopped walking. He could feel his brother thinking, a never-ending curse of their being twins. "Ye interested? Because he has me face, Connor? Ye think about him like _that_?"

He stopped, turning to look at his brother for a split second, arms full of fallen branches and sticks. The answers to every question Murphy hadn't dared ask were in that look of shame as Connor looked from him down to the ground and back up at the trees around them. "We should be getting back, yeah? They'll be lookin' fer us soon." Connor couldn't answer his brother's question vocally, but he knew he'd feel his answer in his soul and there was nothing he could do to stop the hurt that would encompass his heart.

Later that night, Connor lay awake in their tent, staring up at the nylon ceiling. His brother was burrowed into his side, sleeping peacefully with his head on his chest. He counted the breaths Murphy made against his sensitive skin, thanking God that they were both still alive and had been found by this group of decent people. At the same time, he wondered about the magicalness of it all. Running his hand down his brother's nude back, he knew what they wanted was a sin and they had taken every course of action to be "together" without actually being together, but a heavy makeout session and mutual masterbation does not satisfy what they really want. Was Daryl's existence a gift from God? Would they run into someone who looked like him for Murphy?

Granted, homosexuality was also a sin. Thou shalt not lie with a man as with a woman and all that jazz, but why would God put these impure thoughts in his head so consistently and put matching ones in that of his brother?

Murphy stirred on his chest, rubbing his face along his skin before sitting up. "Stop ye thinkin' so fockin' loud. Some of us are tryin' to sleep," he grumbled before rolling over onto his back, mimicking his brother's pose. "Whatcha thinkin' about anyway, Connor?"

"Daryl," he answered honestly. "Gift sent from heaven, aye? Maybe now we can find a Connor-lookalike for ye."

"Fock off!" His brother shoved him playfully, growing quiet again for awhile before asking, "Ye thinkin' about makin' a move on him?"

Connor shrugged. "Don't know if he's into the whole…" he motioned his fingers between the two of them. "But it wouldn't be a gift from God if he wasn't. Suppose that's the only way to tell if he's heaven sent fer me."

Murphy shifted awkwardly on their makeshift bed. "Don't ye love me anymore more?" he asked softly. "Is it not enough for ye? I told ye I'd be willin'-"

Connor sat up on his elbow to look down into the matching blue eyes of his twin, interrupting his declaration. "Aye, I do love ye. More than me own life. 'S why I feel like this is a blessing. That way yer saved from the firey pits of hell from our sinful lust, Murph."

"I don't want to be in heaven without ye, Connor. I love ye too fockin' much to let ye go to hell by yerself. I'd gladly take the punishment with ye."

Connor shook his head. "No, ye need to be with Da. Who knows? Maybe Ma made it to heaven. She's probably waitin' on ye to do some chores, ya lazy focker."

Murphy hit him again, eliciting a push and shove match between the two brothers before a voice from another tent called out to them to knock it off. At that point the other survivors of the group had grown used to the twins fighting between each other and either ignored them or told them to quit, much like their ma had done during their childhood.

The next morning, Connor decided he would at least attempt to make his move. He was the first person up and was brushing his teeth when Daryl appeared from his tent. They both nodded a short greeting as the hunter stalked off into the woods, coming back only a minute later. "Oy," Connor called out to him as he went back to his truck. "Goin' huntin' this morning?" Daryl just nodded. "Mind if I join ye?" He smiled brightly, leaning against the picnic table Daryl had stopped at to adjust his crossbow. He really was shit at this whole flirting thing, but he knew how to interact with other people to get them to trust him. Connor MacManus was a professional charmer.

Daryl just looked at him before returning to his quiver and crossbow and slinging them both onto his back. "Better on mah own," he gruffed and headed towards the woods.

"Aye, ye might be, but who'll watch yer back while yer sittin' on some squirrels, eh? I'm as quiet as a church mouse, ye know that. Plus I need to get out of this fockin' place."

Daryl huffed, looking over towards the Grimes' tent as Rick and Lori crawled out, leaving Carl to sleep a bit longer. A silent look was passed between the two men, extending longer than Connor thought customary, but a short nod was shared between the two after a minute. Daryl then turned back to Connor, "All right, Irish. But if ya scare off the game, I'm tellin' everyone to complain to you instead of me."

"Sounds fair."

Minutes after Connor disappeared into the forest, Murphy poked his head out of the tent. "Oy," he called out to T-Dog who was walking past. "Ye seen me brother?"

"He went into the woods with Daryl just like 2 minutes ago, man. You barely missed him," he told him, still continuing on his way towards the RV.

Murphy hissed, disappearing back into the tent to get dressed.

For over an hour, Connor stuck to Daryl's back, knife out and poised and his gun holstered on his leg. So far, they had just come across a few rabbits, but they were both thankful for those and no stray walkers. They walked in complete silence; their footsteps and all actions mirrored. Both men took in the sounds of the forest, making them a part of their being and relishing in the feeling of nature around them. Connor inhaled deeply every time a breeze would pass them by. The scent of the woods was something he would never get tired of, though it made him long for the smell of the moors in Ireland. He and his brother would probably never make it back there now, if indeed it was even a place worth going back to at this point.

Daryl stopped suddenly in front of him, turning his head slightly to angle his right ear up towards the sky. Connor stopped behind him, swiveling his body around, hand poised with his knife still, ready to strike should they be ambushed by any threat. "I think there's a stream over there," Daryl whispered to him, pointing to his front-right. "Let's go find it. Maybe we could get some fresh water."

Sure enough, a bubbling brook that they could stand in knee-deep had called to them in the forest. "Oy," Connor gasped. "There's fish in here."

"Ya know how to fish, Irish?" Daryl asked, splashing water on himself before filling up a water bottle he must have taken from a pocket.

Connor shrugged. Hell no he didn't know how to fish. Now drink like a fish, that was an expert skill he possessed, but catch a fish? Surely he could come up with something though… Quickly he looked around, locating a sturdy stick. Now he needed a string and a hook or something to catch the fish in. Or maybe a net instead of a pole. Shit, what the hell could he possibly use? Ah, a shoelace would be a good string, but now what about a hook? "Aye, I do, but I need a hook. I use can this stick as a pole and a shoelace as a string, but I need somethin' sharp to jab the fucker with."

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail for a minute, looking on himself as if he was considering all of their supplies in his mind. Connor busied himself with pulling off one of his shoestrings and fastening it to the pole. Just as he was finished tying the knot, Daryl touched his shoulder softly. Looking up, the other man had his wallet open and was holding out an old and rusted fish hook, looking almost sheepish. Connor took it with a nod, threading it onto his shoe lace. "Now I need something to entice the fish with…" Placing his pole on the bank of the river, he took his black tshirt off, leaving his rosary to dangle around his neck against his bare chest. In a swift move, he had the shirt tight between his hands and open enough that when he swiped it through the water, catching a few minnows in the cotton. Triumphantly, he beamed up at Daryl as he put the largest minnow on the hook and set the others in the wet tshirt on the river bank. "And now, we fish," he smiled, climbing back up on the bank and gesturing for the other man to join him.

It felt like another hour had passed before either man said anything. "Why'd ye carry a fish hook in yer wallet? And hell, why'd ye even still have yer wallet?" Connor asked, side-eyeing the hunter.

Daryl shrugged, laying prone next to the Irishman with his forearms behind his head. He had been staring up at the trees, watching the branches blow in the breeze. There had been no sight or smell of a walker the entire morning so he stole this moment, especially knowing that the other man was a damn crack shot should the need arise. "Always prepared. Sometimes ya can't find a meal in the woods but streams almost always have fish."

Connor nodded as if that was the most natural answer in the world and he was an idiot not to think of it, but the deeper meaning behind it made him cringe. "Ye grow up poor?"

"Poorer than dirt. Ma ne'er worked and Dad drank his paycheck. Merle usually drank his, shot it up his arm or took it in pill form."

Connor looked over at the redneck. His eyes were closed and face completely relaxed as if he told this story every day of his life. Hell, Connor figured he lived it so he didn't know any different. "Aye, suppose it's a good skill to have to be able to provide for yerself no matter what. Me brother and I 'bout starved when we first came to Boston. Nobody wanted ta hire two Micks. Took us awhile to find a job." Connor turned back to his line in the water, dancing the hook along the surface, trying to make it look enticing to their potential lunch. "Least Murph and I bathe regularly," he snarked, smiling slightly.

"Don't make me shoot ya in the ass with an arrow. And I fuckin' bathe, Irish. Soap is just scarce now."

"Murph and I would be happy to share ours with ye. Bet yer fockin' handsome beneath that filth."


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl snorted, opening one eye to look over at the Irishman. "You're just sayin' that 'cause I look like your brother."

Connor smiled down at the other man. "Aye, that's part of it I suppose."

"What's the other part?" Daryl asked, eyebrow arched as he stared up at him. The day had turned into any other lazy day that he would have had before the dead started walking- roaming the woods looking for game and sitting by the side of a river fishing the hours away. On a rare occasion Merle would join him, but he would be running his mouth the whole time. Connor was actually good company, which surprised him. He wasn't forceful or too talkative and he was damn good at being quiet in the woods.

Connor shrugged, dragging the line back over top of the water, feeling the other man's gaze linger on him. "Nothin'. Hey, wait," he snapped his head back over towards the hunter, blue eyes blown wide. "If ye had this fockin' hook in your wallet then ye fockin' know how to fish! Why'd ye ask me if I knew how?"

Sitting up, Daryl laughed, pointing at his crossbow next to him on the grass. "I bag the game, you bag the fish. I think that's fair."

Connor scoffed. "I thought I was supposed to be watching yer back!"

"I think you were watching more than my back and you are absolute shit at fishing," he answered, looking down in the water as the fish just swam right by Connor's line.

"I want to see ye do better then!"

Daryl just scoffed and laid back down in the grass. He wasn't ready to get up yet though he knew that they had a group of hungry people they needed to feed back at the camp, but life had settled into an almost simple routine. With the addition of the MacManus brothers, their chores became easier in a way. Murphy charmed the ladies by helping them with some of their chores and Connor helped feed the group and even built them a little firepit. Both men were keen on machines and weaponry which thrilled Dale to no end when he discovered they could help with the RV. This river could probably sustain them for a bit along with the game in the woods. With this knowledge of comfort, Daryl settled into the cool grass.

"Ye lose anyone close in the turn?" Connor asked him, bringing him out of his thoughts. It was really a pointless question because _of course_ he had, everyone had, but the undertone of his question did not go unnoticed.

"Ya mean like a girlfriend?" Daryl scoffed. "Don't give a shit if my dad is still alive or walking around eating people. It would serve his rotten ass right to be stuck in the mud starvin' to death somewhere. We lost my brother in Atlanta. That fucker is out there somewhere tormenting another group of people. But ain't never really had a girlfriend and I think that ya need one to lose one." Daryl paused, looking out over the river and down stream just a bit. "What about you, Irish? You're a long ass way from Ireland."

"Aye. A very long way. I miss it every day. We lost our Da long before this shit went down. Fairly certain our friends are gone. We're not quite sure 'bout our Ma though… She was crazy and crazy seems to survive a lot longer than ye think possible."

"Well ya got your brother. Leave behind a girl? Any hot little Irish redhead?"

"Never did have any real girlfriend either to leave behind. But aye, I got me brother," he nodded, looking down into the water. "Fine piece of work that one is too. Love 'im with everything I am." Connor looked back down at Daryl, an earnestness in his eyes, begging for understanding. "_Everything_. And ye look just like 'im. Fuckin' handsome devils the both of ye."

Daryl blushed slightly, turning his gaze away from the blondish Irishman, not entirely knowing what to say to the compliment.

Connor snatched up the line, realizing that his bait fell off and tried to attach another of the dead minnows to the hook, casting a side glance at the lounging hunter. "I noticed you and Officer Rick staring a little hard at each other there. Anything we God fearing people should know about, eh? That the reason why ye ne'er had any girlfriends? Too busy wit' the boys." he chided, hoping to get more information out of the redneck.

"Nah. Ain't like that 'tween Rick and I. He's our leader. I go by his word."

Connor's voice was small as he asked, "Do ye want it to be?"

Daryl abruptly stood up, snatching up his crossbow and nudging Connor's ass with his foot before walking by him. "Come on, Irish. Gotta get some squirrels and make it back to the camp. We've been gone too long as it is."

"Aye, suppose we have been. Murph will be wonderin' where I got off to," he said standing, brushing off the back side of his pants as he carefully took the hook off his shoelace and relaced it. Catching up to Daryl, he tapped him on his back, handing him the fishhook. "Just in case we ever need it again."

They walked on in silence, Daryl putting the hook back in his wallet and keeping a steady pace heading back towards the camp. Connor followed behind him, noticing that the hunter's guard was back up with his squared shoulders and loaded crossbow, but he had a feeling that it had to do far more with their conversation than with the potential in food or danger. "Thanks for sharing that info with me," he said quietly. It even sounded hollow to his own ears.

Daryl turned his head back towards the other man and gave a one-shoulder shrug, but kept walking in silence. Connor watched the other man's back, keeping his ears open for any looming walkers. At this point he couldn't care less about game. He felt as though he had really pissed off the man he was trying to get closer to and had been making such strides. Now they were right back to where they had been when they happened upon each other in the woods.

Until Daryl asked, "Does it freak you out that your brother and I look alike?" He didn't turn his head or even really raise his voice to make sure he had been heard.

Connor misstepped at the simple question, nearly falling forward onto the other man as he stopped, bending over to inspect some tracks in the dirt. He knew enough to stay quiet in order not to scare off whatever might potentially be around and he was thankful for the distraction at the moment. Continuing on, Daryl looked back at him, signaling that it was safe to answer.

"No. I love lookin' at ye 'cause of it," he answered honestly. "Wasn't lyin' when I told ye that ye were a handsome devil." Daryl didn't respond, just kept walking ahead of him. "Does it bother ye that ye look like my Murph?"

Daryl didn't respond right away. In fact, he made no motion indicating that he even heard the Irishman's question before raising his crossbow and pinning an owl with a single arrow. Collecting his bounty, he cleaned off the arrow and looked back at Connor. "It was a little weird at first. Guess I've gotten used to it now. You don't look nothin' like Merle."

Connor smiled at the intent of the joke. "Aye, I suspect that's a good thing they way e'ryone talks about 'im. Probably smell a lot better too." Daryl snorted, continuing on their way, owl and rabbits hanging at his side. "Should tackle ye down and hose ye when we get back ta camp."

"Ya sayin' I stink?" Daryl asked, a slight smile on his face.

"Nah, smell like a bed o' roses," Connor answered with a smile, glad that they were back to light flirting. "Dipped in mud."

Daryl's semi-easygoing nature and joking stopped when they returned to camp, Shane approaching both men as they appeared out of the forest, hands on his hips as he nodded his head towards the brothers' tent. "You might want to go tame your brother. He's been throwing a temper tantrum ever since you left."

Connor nodded, giving Daryl a single look before returning to his tent. He could feel the other man's slitted blue eyes watching his back as he walked away.

Shane nodded at Connor as he walked away and asked, "He do all right out there?"

Daryl shrugged, pushing past him to go pluck and skin their catch. "We're alive ain't we?"

Shane nodded, accepting that was the only answer he was going to get but decided to stick around the area when he heard the MacManus brothers start up on their fight that everyone knew would be coming. The way Murphy had been stalking around the camp for the past few hours since Connor had left surprised the entire group, though they had never seen the brothers apart. Shane probably figured this was why Connor left when his brother was still asleep, so he didn't have to put up with this childishness. However, he did have to admit, Connor's choice of new friends was questionable. Though, as an Irishman with such a thick accent and all of those religious tattoos and a whacko for a brother, Shane figured he was used to be on the edge of society. Hell, maybe he hung out with people like the Dixons wherever the hell it was they came from.

"Murph, you're fockin' insane!" came the shout as Murphy flew out of the tent, accusatory index finger instantly flying into his brother's face as he followed him out into the open air.

"You're a lyin' asshole!" Murphy shouted back even louder. "Ye fockin' planned it! I know ye did!"

Connor looked nervously around at the people in the camp who had stopped to stare wide eyed at the brothers. Shane took a single step closer to get on the periphery of his vision, making a calming motion with his hands and pressing a finger to his lips. Connor understood him completely. They didn't want to bring any walkers to their camp with the loud screaming. He just nodded, grabbing a reluctant Murphy by his elbow and yanking him hard towards the dense forest. Murph twisted out of his grasp, turning violently, searching for Daryl. The accusatory finger pointed at him as he sat around the fire circle, skinning his first rabbit, trying like hell to be uninterested in what the two brothers were arguing about but knowing fully that it was him. "You!" he shouted. "Stay away from me fockin' brother!"

Daryl just raised a defiant eyebrow in response, not even bothering to look up at his accuser while everyone's gaze shifted over to him from the brothers. Connor looked back at Daryl, concern lacing his face. They had come so far today and enjoyed each other's company in the middle of the woods without any distraction. He didn't want his brother, his love, his life, to set them back.

Shane watched as Connor manhandled his brother out into the woods, still kicking and screaming about being a liar and a cheat. He shook his head as he walked by Daryl, feeling safe enough to let down his guard as their shouting got farther away. "Makes it sound like you're stealing his girlfriend," he mumbled only loud enough for the other to hear.

Daryl snorted, well into skinning and gutting the second rabbit at this point, but he had to admit… Shane had a point. Looking out at the woods where Connor had disappeared to, he thought back over their conversations from that morning.

* * *

Connor slammed Murphy up against a pine tree, the impact sending bark shingles falling to the ground around them. "What te fock is your problem?" he hissed, getting up in his brother's personal space.

"Did ye fock him out there? Huh? Did ye enjoy the experience ye won't let me give ye?" Murphy screamed.

"Oh focking hell, Murph," Connor sighed, stepping away from his brother and running his hand through his hair. "We just talked. We sat by a river and talked."

"Bull." His brother's voice was harsh, blue eyes ice-hard.

Connor stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Murphy and bringing his stiff body into a full body embrace. "I promise ye, Murphy," he whispered before daring to brush his lips over the anger-pursed ones. And just like that, the anger seeped out of the younger MacManus, his body molding into that of his brothers as he answered the kiss with a fervor. Connor supposed it wasn't fair to manipulate his brother's emotion-driven responses like that, but hell sometimes you had to play dirty to get your way. "I love ye, Murphy MacManus. Even if ye are a jealous focker."

"Fock you," Murph breathed, resting his forehead against his brothers.

"Ye want to," Connor snickered, grinding his hips against Murphy's.

Banging his head back against the tree, Murph let out a loud groan, tightening his hold around his brother's shoulders. "_Fock _yes I do."

Connor's kiss was hard enough to sting, teeth nipping at his bottom lip as he pulled away, grinding his hips against him again. "Do ye want ta…?"

"Aye," Murphy growled. "If ye won't give me what I want, then at least give me that."

Connor's hands tore at his brother's clothes as their mouths battled for dominance. Shirts were tossed to the forest floor, fingernails raking down chests. "Fockin love ye," Murphy groaned. "Connor, _please_."

"No, Murph. We can't. Ye know we can't." Connor stroked his brother's hair. "I love ye too much to damn ye like that."

Murphy grunted and groaned as they kicked off their pants and boxer briefs, sitting down next to each other against the tree, eyes still locked on the other's body.

Connor's heart burned with sinful lust as he watched his brother's hand wrap around his own cock, stroking it slowly until he saw his brother's hand take up his cock. Together, they jacked off, watching the other's hand expertly work their cocks. Connor hissed as Murphy's other hand tried to reach over. "Murph, don't."

"Please, Connor," Murphy whined. "I need ye."

"I'm right here."

Murphy groaned out in frustration, stroking his palm over the head of his cock. "Ye such a fockin' asshole."

"Ye dream 'bout me asshole," Connor snickered, watching as Murphy's hand rolled over the head of his cock, spreading his precum as he stroked back down his shaft.

"Aye. And your cock up mine. Want to feel ye, Conn, movin' above me. I want to give ye everything."

Connor shook his head, his chest tightening as his stomach fluttered. "I'd take it, Murph, and give ye everything as well. _Want_ to be inside ye," he groaned back. "But, _fock_, we can't..." he grunted as long streaks of cum fell to the forest floor.

Beside him, Murphy groaned out his own orgasm, white, warm cum coating the leaves and grass in front of him. "I know," he sighed. "'Cause it's a sin. Don't mean I can't still want it."

Connor snorted, leaning over and kissing his brother. "Aye, it does, Murph, just means we can still be saved." The brothers slowly collected themselves, kissing languidly as Murphy apologized for his outburst earlier, needing to feel Connor against him.

Neither man was aware of the silent figure that slinked away back towards their camp, square shoulders slumped as he tried to hide amongst the trees.


	3. Chapter 3

Murphy watched his brother watch Daryl across camp as he cleaned his catch. It had been two days since Connor had disappeared into the woods the whole morning and part of the afternoon with the redneck and Murph could tell he was just itching to go again. Connor had tried to get away, but his brother had attached himself to his side, unwilling to let him go anywhere alone. He could feel the frustration growing in his twin, but he didn't care. He didn't trust that redneck one bit. The man showed no interest in any of the women in camp, but enough interest in a few of the men, his brother included.

Murphy watched as Connor and Daryl would exchange glances over the fire during meal times or before everyone turned in for bed. One or the other would look away with a slight smirk before glancing back again. He was sick of it and if it weren't for Connor holding his heart, Murphy would tell Daryl to go fuck himself. He knew if he did, Connor would hold a grudge against him and possibly stop their entire relationship or whatever shitty form of a relationship they had.

He realized he too was always watching the hunter now, trying to figure out if he actually had an interest in Connor in any unclean way. Thankfully most of Daryl's attention was distracted from Connor by Rick. Murphy didn't mind Rick. The man lead with his heart, which was where Murphy lived. Connor lived through his mind and at times it drove him crazy. He watched as Rick sat down next to Daryl as he was skinning his final squirrel, a map in his hand. He pointed over some X's he had drawn and motioned around the camp, words running fast across his lips. Daryl nodded along, barely even glancing back at the map. Rick stopped speaking, listening to Daryl's soft and few words before looking over at the brothers, brow creased in thought.

Connor sat next to him, carefully stitching something together in his hands. Murphy couldn't quite tell what it was, but he could tell what it wasn't and that was clothing. Heavy bootfalls approached them, causing both brothers to look up as Rick nodded down at them. "Daryl is going to go on a run to town to check out a few stores for any supplies. He wanted to know if you'd be willing to go with him, Connor."

"No," Murphy breathed, looking back over at Daryl who had completely disappeared from his spot.

But Connor was just simply nodding eagerly. "Yeah, sure. Anyt'ing to help out."

"He said y'all worked well together in the woods and thought you'd be great to take on scouting runs."

Just then Daryl stepped out of his tent, crossbow and quiver on his back. "Irish, drop that doll and let's go."

Murphy looked down at the mess of fabric in his brother's hands. _Fuck_ it was a doll. How the hell did he know that at first look?

"Oy, don't say that too loud! It's a present ya dope," Connor chided with a grin, standing up to toss the half finished doll into their tent and grab his knife and gun. "We taking te truck?"

"Nah, motorcycle. We can get in and out faster. We're just scouting around, making sure it's worth wasting the gas to bring a larger group and vehicle in."

Connor nodded, following the other man to the other side of camp before Murphy's fingers on his arm stopped him. "Con…"

"Murph, I'll be back."

"'S not it. Don't…"

Connor looked over at Daryl before turning back to his twin. "He asked fer me. That's gotta mean somethin'. I love ye, Murph."

"I love ye too, Con. Be careful. With everythin'."

Murphy's body burned with jealousy as he watched his brother climb on the back of Daryl's motorcycle, his front fitting perfectly along the other man's back as he wrapped his arms around his waist. Daryl gave his interlocked hands a pat as he smiled back at the other man before starting the Triumph and roaring away down the road.

"Ya gonna start another tantrum cause Daryl stole your boyfriend again?" Shane asked as he walked up behind him.

Murphy whirled around, to the older man, upset that someone even had the _gall _to mention this moment to him. He threw a stiff right hook. Before his left arm could even swing he was down on the ground, face first in the dirt with the larger man on his back. He let out a single pain-filled wail. The way Shane had his arm twisted behind his back was nothing new; Connor used that dirty trick when they were wrestling. He closed his eyes, letting his tears get caught on his eyelashes as the thought that it took his brother leaving him for another man to finally feel the weight of a man on his back and a cock pressed against his ass and it was from this asshole Shane.

The times Connor had been on a motorcycle he could count on one hand, but no experience could match this feeling. Wrapping his arms tighter around Daryl's waist, he buried his face in the other's neck, inhaling his scent. The feel of the other man's warm body against him was unparalleled in this world or even the old world. He wanted to let his hands roam, place a kiss to the pale skin exposed to him beneath the neck of his shirt. Connor wanted to rip the damn vest off of him to feel more of the warmth from his body.

His cock was starting to stiffen in his pants and Lord, this was not the time. Being hard around this man was difficult enough when he wasn't plastered to his back for dear life. Shifting uncomfortably, he tried to adjust his hips so his problem wasn't necessarily pressing insistently against Daryl's ass. Of course he would notice.

"Ya all right?" Daryl shouted over the roar of the motorcycle engine, barely turning his head back at him to be heard.

"Aye," Connor answered. "More than all right." He grinned, dropping his head down to the other's shoulder again.

He felt the muscles of Daryl's face twitch as one hand left the handlebars to pat his hands on his stomach. Connor flattened his hands out, feeling the muscles quiver beneath his touch. Moving his lips up to his ear, Connor said huskily, "How much longer?" making sure to let him feel the heat from his breath on his skin, barely licking the outer shell.

Daryl's body shuddered slightly against him, doing a little shifting of his own. "Not too much longer, maybe 15, 20 minutes." Connor smiled against his skin, pulling back in close and melding his body against the redneck's.

Shane held Murphy down on the ground, pulling at his hair to turn his head and allow him air. His hand on his back was barely holding him down, but pain was etched across the darker haired twin's face. "Hey," Shane coaxed, "did I hurt you? Ya ain't broken, are ya?"

"Aye, I'm broken. Fockin' broken," he wailed again.

Shane hauled him up on his feet to inspect him. The man was like jelly in his arms as he tried to stand him up. "Hey, man. Stand on your own two feet. You're all right."

Murphy let out another sob, attempting to throw another swing at him. At this point people were starting to gather. Rick came over and put a hand on Murphy's shoulder, but he shrugged him off, turning away from him. "Murphy? What happened?"

"Ye fockin' boy just stole me brother!" Murphy yelled at him, pointing in the direction that Daryl and Connor drove off in. "Ridin' on the back of his fockin' motorcycle like he was already his bitch!"

Rick shared a look with Shane. "Let's go for a walk, Murphy. I don't think people around here need to be all in your business," Shane whispered to him. Murphy finally looked around him at all the concerned and interested faces. He heard the whispers between some of them about him getting into Merle's stash that was still in his truck or asking each other if he had some alcohol hidden somewhere that the brothers weren't sharing. They were_ Irish_ after all.

With a single nod, Shane and Rick led the younger man off to the woods, Shane's strong hand holding his upper arm just in case the other man fell again. They walked silently until they came across the spot where Connor had shoved Murphy up against the tree just a few nights ago after he had confronted him about Daryl. The Irishman let out another wail, shaking off Shane's strong grip and leaning against the tree.

Running his hand through his hair, Shane looked to Rick for some sort of direction on this one. If this twin wasn't mentally stable, then they needed to know about it. They needed to make a decision and it was going to be a hard one. "Look, Murphy-"

"I don't want to fockin' hear it, okay?" He slumped against the bark, sliding down the tree until he sat down on the ground. "I know everythin' you're gonna say. He's all I got left."

Rick sighed, crouching down to the younger man's level. "Ain't no one gonna take your brother from you, okay? We would never try to separate you two, but you have to understand that you can't be together all the time and that's okay too. Connor will come back to you. Daryl is one of my best men. You think I'd send him out there alone thinking he wouldn't come back?"

Murphy turned his face up towards Rick. "Do you love him?"

Rick looked up back up at Shane before back down at Murphy. "He's like a brother to me."

Murphy howled with laughter. "Aye, like a brother. Like me and me brother. Probably _exactly _like me and me brother. Do ye have dreams about fockin' him when you're asleep? Do ye yearn for his touch that he denies ye? No, probably not. Probably the other way 'round. _He_ dreams about you-"

"Murphy!" Shane's harsh whisper shut him up. Rick stood up, pacing around their small area. "So you're sayin' you and your brother are…"

Murphy shook his head, wrapping his arms around his bent knees. "No. He won't touch me. Says its not God's will. 'S unnatural since we're born of the same womb and its in te Bible that a man shall not lay with another man as with a woman. He doesn't want ta condemn me ta hell with him."

Shane snorted. "Look, little leprechaun. God ain't here. If He was here do you think the dead would be walking?"

Murphy stood up, standing toe to toe with the larger man. "Aye! I do! Tis the beginning of Judgement!"

Shane laughed at him, spreading his arms out wide and turning in a circle before getting in the Irishman's face. "Then welcome to Hell, Leprechaun! Might as well bare your ass to the world to be fucked!"

"Shane! Now is not the time!" Rick chastised. "Look, Murphy. Daryl isn't trying to come between you and Connor-"

"The hell he isn't! Ye haven't seen te looks they give each other! Connor… he…"

"Okay, okay," Rick said calmly, trying to sooth the younger man. "So they may be interested in each other. But would Connor condemn himself to hell, as you say, to be with Daryl?"

"Aye. He would. Says Daryl is a gift from God."

"Jesus fuckin'-"

"Lord's name!" Murphy chastised Shane but the man wouldn't back down.

"So what if your brother and Daryl want to bump uglies, huh? We're in hell now, Murphy! Might as well get your freak on! I say good for your brother not wanting to fuck his own brother! If you need to get fucked, then get fucked by someone not related to you! Pretty sure _that's_ in the Bible too!" Shane roared. Rick tried to get between them, placing his hands on Shane's chest to get him to back down but Murphy just came up against him shouting back in retaliation.

"Fock you! Ye don't know what yer talkin' about!"

"Bet you'd like that wouldn't you! Want to bend over for me? I'll ram you nice and good!"

"That's enough out of the both of you!" roared Rick. "All you're doing at this point is calling walkers towards us and that is the _last_ thing we need. When Daryl and Connor get back we need to have a calm discussion about this. Let _us_ talk to them first, Murphy."

Murphy sighed, slinking back against the tree, the fight finally leaving his body. "Aye, ok."

Rick placed his hands on Murphy's shoulders. "I can tell you that we will do our best to make sure that your brother stays alive whenever he is with us on runs. But you cannot throw these fits when he leaves. It's detrimental to the group." Murphy just nodded his assent. "Okay, let's head back to camp."

"If ye don't mind, I'd like to stay out here a little while. Need to clear me head."

"Actually I do mind. It's dangerous for you to stay out here alone."

"I'll stay with him," Shane sighed.

"Shane, I don't think-" Rick started.

"Tis fine. Don't mind him."

Rick just nodded, looking at both of them pointedly before walking away back towards camp.

Daryl pulled the motorcycle through the strip mall parking lot as Connor took out the walkers with his gun, silencer in place. Once the lot was cleared, he came to a stop right outside a CVS. "We can pull any leftover medications and see what else there is that's left before we scope out the other stores."

"Aye, sounds like a plan." They moved as one, clearing the store of walkers as they moved about the shelves. Many items had already been scavanged. A lot of the food had already been picked over and cleaned out; the cold cases had melted ice cream and no doubt soured milk. Both men wandered around the cold medicines and bandaids aisles. Rounding an endcap, Connor called out, "Oy! They left the lot of condoms!"

Daryl chuckled. "Got high hopes there, Irish?"

Connor smirked. "Maybe I do."

"Which lady? Carol maybe? I know ya ain't gonna try with Lori…"

"Nah." Regardless, he still stuffed a few boxes in his bag.

Daryl peeked at him around the corner of the aisle, a wrist brace and bottle of Advil in his hands as he shoved them into his bag. "Your own right hand then?"

"Thought maybe that Sheriff with the 70s Chips hairstyle could use 'em when he fucks the other's wife. Maybe he'll share some with ye. Surely ye plan on gettin' some action."

Daryl snorted, disappearing again around the corner. "Told ya before, ain't no one I'm interested in."

Connor followed him around the corner, stepping closer than necessary as he reached over him for some antibiotic ointment. "No one, male or female?"

Daryl coughed, stepping away to go behind the counter. The silence fell between them, the question Connor posed going unanswered. He thought perhaps he had overstepped his bounds and left the redneck alone. They cleared the rest of the store, taking a mental inventory of what they could come and get the next day with a truck. Connor kept a mental note of where Daryl was, making sure that he would have his back in the event of a stray, unnoticed walker. Although he was certain that the day Daryl Dixon didn't notice something would be the day that hell really had taken over the world.

Stepping out of the store, Daryl stopped to light up a cigarette as they perused the block, contemplating which store to hit next. Connor stood next to him, wondering if there was a bar anywhere in the area that might still have some liquor in it. "I saw ya. You and your brother I mean. Thought ya should know."

"Aye. We see ye all the time in camp."

"I meant In the woods."

Connor paused. "In te woods?"

Daryl blew out a strong line of smoke. "Yeah. I followed you thinkin' that I could maybe talk with Murphy since he seemed to have a problem with me. Guess I kinda know what his problem is now."


	4. Chapter 4

Connor wished he still had a pack of cigarettes hidden somewhere in his pockets. Daryl fidgeted next to him slightly after his admission, the two men left in an awkward, stretched silence. "Look, I wasn't stalkin' ya or anything," Daryl mumbled, awkwardly trying to defend himself against the non-existent attack.

Connor shrugged. "Wouldn't mind if ye were, honestly. I guess its no secret now, but how much do ye know?"

Daryl looked out over the rest of the strip mall that hadn't been cleared yet. "Let's finish this job first," he said, walking away before the other man could even protest. Silently, they moved in tandem through each store, downing stray walkers and taking inventory of the items left that might be of use. They worked as well together as Connor and Murphy had in another life; part of that pained him to think of Daryl in the place of Murphy at the moment, but really, wasn't that what he ultimately wanted? He wasn't trying to replace his _brother_, just his_ lover_. Murphy would always be his only brother, his other half, the second part of his soul. But if he could have something truly meaningful with someone that reminded him of the same brother he lusted after, how could that not be fate?

What felt like hours later, they had a nice small haul in their packs as they made their way back to the motorcycle. "Oy, Daryl," Connor called, tossing the other man a melty candy bar that he had found. "Here's our hazard pay."

Daryl smirked, ripping into the chocolatey goodness. "Even melted its still good."

"Aye. Some things are better than you remember them if you haven't had them for awhile."

Connor shifted on his feet as the silence once again stretched out between them. He didn't like how awkward this situation was getting between them and what it could potentially mean for his chances with Daryl. "So, about what we were talkin' about earlier…"

Daryl looked down at the wrapper of the candy bar before licking it clean. Connor watched as his tongue sought out all the dark patches of chocolate on the reflective material, darting into the creases. Daryl licked his lips, the tip of his tongue darting out once more at each side. He took his time on answering still and when he did, he spoke slowly, as if he were weighing his words. "I saw ya kiss him and then ya both…" He made that jack off motion with his hand. Connor could only nod once, ashamed of himself once again for doing that with his brother. "Look man, it ain't my business what ya do with your brother. I just wanted you to know that I saw ya but I won' say nothin'. Not anyone else's business either. Y'all have been real discrete about it."

Connor's thought processes paused, thinking that maybe Daryl hadn't actually seen, or rather heard, everything. "It's not like that with me and Murphy."

Daryl stood up straight, tossing the candy wrapper to the wind. "Look, like I said, ain't my business."

"Aye, it kinda is if ye didn't hear the conversation that went before it." Connor shifted, debating whether he wanted to out himself and his motives to Daryl already.

"Naw, I wasn't close enough to really hear ya. Wasn't even meanin' to stay around as long as I did. Just surprised me is all, I guess." Connor ran his hand through his hair, tossing his own candy wrapper. "We should be gettin' back. I'm sure your brother is throwing another fit since I took ya from him."

"Yeah, that's the thing…" Connor ran his hand from his hair down to his neck, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "When I said it's not like that with me and Murph, I didn't mean we don't want to… but it's a sin in the Lord's eyes."

"So you're not fuckin' your brother, but you want to?" Daryl looked at him sideways, squinting in the afternoon sun.

"Aye. I love Murphy and he loves me, but its a sinful love in the eyes of our Lord. I prayed daily for him to send me someone so I wouldn't condemn Murph to hell with me for havin' these thoughts. And I believe he answered me prayers."

Daryl stood stock still, staring sideways at the Irishman. Wiping his palm on the pocket of his jeans, he cleared his throat. "Whatchu sayin' Irish?"

Connor sighed. This was not the way he was wanting to tell Daryl about this whole situation. "I had just finished praying in the woods when we met ye. And ye look jus' like him, Daryl."

"Hate to disappoint you, but I'm not gay, man."

"Neither am I. I don't look at other men. Hell, I don't even really look at women. But I'm just asking ye, let me woo ye and ye won't be disappointed," Connor pleaded. He knew he was damn good with getting his way with Murphy. Maybe the same tactics would work on Daryl.

"Look man, I'm flattered, really, but there's nothin' you can say that will make me reconsider. Now let's get back." Daryl climbed on the motorcycle, wrapping his bag around his front so Connor could slide on behind him.

"'s that why ye always look at Rick the way ye do? I'm not accusin' anyone of anythin', man. I just want a chance. I'm not climbin' on that bike until ye at least give me a chance to prove meself to ye."

"Then you're gonna have a long walk home, Irish." Daryl started up the motorcycle and Connor crossed his arms over his chest, sitting down on the curb. With a shake of his head, Daryl kicked up the kickstand and sped off down the street, turning the corner. Within seconds he had doubled back, stopping the motorcyle right in front of the still motionless Connor on the side of the road. "You were just gonna let me drive off and leave ya?" Daryl bellowed at him, cutting the engine and getting off the bike. "Are ya outta your mind?"

Connor looked down at his feet, slowly shaking his head. "Aye. Completely out of me mind. If ye aren't willin' to give me a chance, I've already condemned me brother to hell, what good would I be then?"

"Oh for fuck's sake man."

Murphy sat on the ground, eyeing Shane where he stood watching over the younger man, hand on his gun at his hip. "You ready to go or what?" Shane asked. "Cause I'm gettin' tired of sittin' out here for walker bait."

"Ye can go back if ye want," Murphy muttered.

"Look man," Shane started, stepping closer to Murphy as he still sat at the base of the tree. He leaned down and talked softly to him, as if he were approaching a timid animal. "I appreciate your Godly views and how devoted you still are, but man… we're in the last of our days, brother. I don't get wanting to fuck your brother, but I think you should do whatever is going to make you happy. As long as you don't put anyone in danger, fuck as many men as you want."

Murphy eyed him for any judgement behind his words. "Just like ye enjoy focking yer best friend's wife behind his back?"

Shane stood up. "I don't have to defend myself to you. I thought… Rick was dead. I had to get Lori and Carl out and shit just happens man. Which is exactly what you should let happen. Do I regret sleeping with Lori? Some days I do, but most I don't. Neither one of us knew that Rick survived so you can't judge me for that."

"Yeah, just let shit happen. I try to make shit happen, but Connor won't touch me. I love me brother and I know its wrong but God wouldn't let me have these feelings if he didn't approve."

"Maybe he's just testing you." Shane shrugged. "I'm just saying, I wouldn't want to die knowing I ain't fucked anybody. Or I guess in your case was fucked by anybody…. I'm assuming you...uh… you'd…." Shane ran his hand through his hair before dropping both hands to his hips as he stood up out of the other man's space. Murphy just looked up at him and nodded, answering the question that he couldn't voice.

"Aye. I'd lay down for 'im."

"I wouldn't want to die pining for only one person and gave up just because that person didn't want me. I mean, isn't there someone else that you're attracted to? What about anyone else at camp? T-Dog? Glenn? I ain't gonna insult you and say Dale."

Murphy just shook his head. "Ain't puttin' yerself in there, Mr. Sheriff?"

Shane laughed awkwardly, taking another step back. "Naw. I wouldn't."

Murphy stood up, smelling the small amount of fear from the other. "What if I said I'd fock ye? Ye said earlier ye'd ram me nice and hard. What if I took ye up on that offer? Bend over for ye right here and now."

Shane stepped up to him, puffing out his chest, making himself look large and menacing. "Like hell you would. You're too hot and heavy for your brother. And I ain't a fucking fag."

"I bet ye might be. Ye ain't gotten laid since Rick came back." Murphy took off his shirt, tossing it behind him, moving his hands down his chest to unbuckle his pants.

"The fuck are you doing, leprechaun? I told you-" Shane started backing up away from him, looking like he was seriously just ready to make a run for it.

"Ye told me I need to give up on pinin' for just one person. I think ye were offerin'." Murphy dropped his pants, stepping out of them carefully. "I'm down to me boxers, Officer."

Shane stood gaping at the younger man, practically naked in front of him. He did have a nice body, even with all of the tattoos, but that didn't mean he'd want to fuck him right here and now. Murphy suddenly stepped closer, his hands reaching out for the other's belt and undoing it slowly, never losing eye contact with Shane's brown eyes. "I'm sure ye miss gettin' laid. Being all ball deep in somethin' nice and warm."

Shane's mind stopped processing and the world started to move slower as Murphy's hands finally reached his belt. He saw the other man's lips moving, smirking at him as his hands worked. He could feel them brush against his stomach and then his thighs as his cargos were taken down. Fingertips brushed over his lower abdomen, pushing his black tshirt up farther on his stomach until he subconsciously raised his arms for it to be taken over his head. A warm hand on his cock brought him back into reality; everything speeding back up to its actual pace. Murphy's words finally reached his ear as he was whispering to him all the dirty, dirty things he wanted to do.

In a swift motion, Shane pulled the same maneuver as he had on him back at camp, grabbing his wrist and pushing him face first down on his knees in the dirt. "I'll fuck ya if you're wantin' it so bad, but I'm driving this." He tightened his hold on the other man's arm until he saw the head nod soft words of assurance. Shane let him loose only to grip the band of his underwear and tug down. It wasn't going to be finesse and it sure as hell wasn't going to be pleasant for the other man because he didn't have anything to help him get inside except for spit and precum. Using his knees to knock Murphy's legs apart, he spit on his fingers, bringing them down to the tight hole. "Don't tense. It will be way worse if you do."

"Ye sound like ye done this before," Murphy growled bringing a shoulder down to the ground so he could get a hand between his legs and slowly stroke himself.

"With girls a few times. I've never been with a man before so I don't know if it will be any different." Moving his hand back to his own cock, he stroked it hard and quick, squeezing some precum out and wiping it off with his fingers. Rubbing the cum over Murphy's hole, he pushed in one finger then two, finger fucking him slowly. To be honest, he wasn't entirely sure if this was the other man's first time with _everything_ or just with a man and he didn't want to be a _complete_ dick about it- no pun intended.

Murphy groaned, spreading his legs even wider as he felt Shane's fingers enter him. Closing his eyes, he sucked in air, holding his breath as he felt the fingers move, fucking him slowly. "Fuck, that feels so good."

Shane grunted his approval as he began to stretch his pucker a little more, adding in a third finger and moving his hand faster until Murphy was a begging, wanton mess in front him, pressing his hips back into him to try to maintain the feeling. "What t'e fuck are ye waiting for?" he groaned out, a hand reaching behind himself, trying to grasp at Shane's leg.

"Okay, okay. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't going to kill you."

"I'm gonna blow me load without ye if ye don't get on with it, ye ass," Murphy grunted.

Shane grumbled inwardly about the man on his knees in front of him being an impatient will imp who should be thankful he's even getting anything as he lined his cock up, brushing the wet tip over the entrance before pressing inside. Murphy bellowed as he pressed in, feeling the tightest. Shane's hand instantly went over his mouth. Pressing his cock all the way in and leaning over the other's body, he whispered harshly in his ear, "You want to bring every walker and the people back at camp out here?"

Murphy grunted, thrusting his hips back. Shane groaned, dropping his head to the other's shoulder as his hands fell loose and down to the ground. He gave a few experimental thrusts before setting a steady rhythm. For his part, Murphy was an active participant, thrusting back against his lover, grunting out approvals and words of encouragement everytime his shaft would hit something special deep inside him that would send shivers down his spine. Shane sat up, gripping the pale hips in front of him tightly as he started to really drive home. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture Lori bent over in front of him, even his exgirlfriend from the month before the turn hit, anything really to not think about how the person he had his dick buried deep into was a man. An annoying shit of one at that, but hell maybe this would shut him up. Thrusting harder still, listening to the grunts of mixed pain and pleasure of the man beneath him, he watched the tattoo of Jesus' feet on his back danced with their movements. Shaking his head, he tried not to think about God, Jesus, and religion right now, but for some reason he hoped Connor and Daryl were fucking the hell out of each other right now. Maybe if both McManus brothers were getting laid, then they would be a lot calmer.

The end was a fizzle compared to other orgasms he had had in the past, which he was surprised about because Murphy had been right- he hadn't slept with anyone since Lori. Who else was there to sleep with anyways? However, Murphy mewed out his release, howling like a cat in heat. Shane reached a hand in between his legs, massaging his balls slightly as he shot out hot streaks of which onto the forest floor. When the Irish man's body relaxed, Shane pulled his cock out, reaching over for his clothes and tossing Murphy his own.

Murphy rolled over onto his back, lewdly spreading his legs in front of him as he tried to catch his breath. "Fock, that was everything I wanted it to be."

"There, you got your cherry popped. Now quit complaining about your brother wanting to fuck Daryl. I seriously doubt that's going to happen anyhow." Shane finished dressing and stood up, looking down at the still nude man. "Hurry up and get your clothes on. We gotta get back to the camp before Rick comes lookin' for us."

Less than an hour after Shane and Murphy returned from their "talk" in the forest, Daryl and Connor pulled back into camp on the Triumph. As Daryl cut the engine, Connor allowed his hands to slowly move down the others body, giving a slight squeeze before letting go and getting off the back of the bike. No one noticed it seemed, but Murphy and Shane.

Connor grinned brightly, opening his backpack and handing stuff out as the group came up to them. "We got a few things of interest and cleared out a bunch of walkers. It's definitely worth t'e trip o'er there with a truck,maybe two."

Rick turned to Daryl for confirmation. "He's right. It's worth it. Every bit of it. That CVS even still has a decent amount of crap on the shelves, not much food though."

Still, Rick nodded. "All right. First thing in the morning, we gather a group together and ride out and clear it. Good job, guys." He turned and walked away, back towards his tent where Lori and Carl were standing, waiting for him. Daryl watched him go, completely unaware that Connor was directly beside him.

"Ye know, ye can do better than a married man. I'm standing right here."

Daryl looked at him pointedly before shaking his head and walking back to his tent. "See ya later, Irish."

Connor grinned wickedly as he made his way back to his tent, cradling the candy bar he had saved for his brother. Unzipping it, he saw Murph laying on his sleeping bag, fiddling with the zipper. "Oy," he called, tossing the candy bar at him. "Gotcha somethin'."

Murphy's breath hitched as he moved awkwardly to catch the flying chocolate. He half hoped his brother wouldn't notice. The other half wanted him to be so blindingly jealous that it was like he had his old Connor back with the horrible plans and ideas for things.

"Hey, what happened to ye while I was gone, huh? Why ye movin' like that? Ye hurt?"

"Ay, a bit. But I'll be all right," Murphy played it off. "Thanks for the candy."

"What did ye do? Chop some firewood? Its about time ye got up off your lazy ass." Connor flopped down on his own sleeping back directly next to his brother's. Gently he pulled the other man to lay on his chest, just like they did every night. Placing a soft kiss at the crown of his brother's head, he sniffed. "Murph, ye smell different…" Murphy tensed in his arms. "Ye smell like…" Connor paused considering, sniffing one more time for good measure. "Sex and Shane."


	5. Chapter 5

Murphy lay waiting for his brother, his mind rolling over what he had just done in the woods with Shane. He was terrified and broken, yet he felt free. Now that he had been sodomized, taken by someone else for his first time, he just knew Connor would want him. There would be no more fear of saving him from Hell. He had condemned himself to the pits along with his brother. Murphy hoped that if nothing else Connor would be so blinded by rage that he would try to reclaim what was his.

The Triumph roared into their camp. He could hear Connor laughing over the roar of the motor. Peeking his head out from the tent, he saw his brother dismount the bike, running his hands sensually down Daryl's chest and around his hips before throwing his leg over and pulling his backpack off. Connor missed the look Daryl shot him, his back being turned from the hunter as he dug through his backpack to hand out his finds to the held out hands, but Murphy didn't. It was a look of interest, blatant curiosity about the other person. Connor had made his move and it was evident the hunter accepted the pass, or at the very least was considering it.

Murphy zipped the tent back up, laying back down. He wondered what Shane would do if he snuck into his tent that evening after everyone had gone down for the night. He wondered if Connor would even care or notice that he was gone. When Connor zipped open the tent, he considered feigning sleep, but the sound of his brother's voice always enveloped his heart in a warm cocoon. A candy bar was tossed at him and he made every attempt to not move awkwardly but secretly he hoped Connor had caught the motion. He wasn't disappointed.

"Hey, what happened to ye while I was gone, huh? Why ye movin' like that? Ye hurt?"

"Ay, a bit. But I'll be all right," Murphy played it off, torn between wanting to tell him what happened and suddenly feeling nothing but shame about what he had done. "Thanks for the candy."

"What did ye do? Chop some firewood? Its about time ye got up off your lazy ass." Connor flopped down on his own sleeping back directly next to his brother's. Gently he pulled the other man to lay on his chest, just like they did every night. Placing a soft kiss at the crown of his brother's head, he sniffed. "Murph, ye smell different…" Murphy tensed in his arms. "Ye smell like…" Connor paused considering, sniffing one more time for good measure. "Sex and Shane."

Connor's arms tightened around him. "Murph… you didn't….," he whispered. He ran his hands over the other's back and up to his hair, kissing his temple as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Tell me you didn't."

Murphy sniffled into his chest. "Ay, I did. 'Twas good, Connor. Felt so good."

Connor was still as he held onto his brother tightly. He wanted to go out and swing on Shane, bring him down to the ground and beat him into a pulp for touching his brother when he had worked so hard to keep his brother from this sin. "Why?" was all he could ask.

"Cause ye won't," came the soft reply.

"So ye went and focked another man? I been tryin' ta say ye from hell, Murph! And ye just throw that away!" Connor whispered harshly, keenly aware that it was the middle of the afternoon and everyone was milling about the camp still.

"So ye went and focked Daryl!" Murphy wasn't quite as keen on keeping their voices low. Connor cursed at his brother's fiery temper, flipping them over and pinning his brother down on their sleeping bags.

"Shut yer mouth! People are outside ya brat! And Daryl and I haven't focked."

"But ye touched him like yer lovers when ye got off that _fockin'_ motorcycle. Don't tell me nothin' happened, Connor. I ain't stupid."

Connor sat back, letting go of his brother's upper body. He ran his hand down his face as he contemplated what he could tell his brother. "Ay, but nothin' near what ye think. He saw us out in t'e woods but he didn't know what it was about. He thought we were fockin' so I told him why we weren't and why I thought he was a gift from God. He told me he wasn't gay but I asked for a chance to woo 'im. It took a little convincin' but he finally agreed."

"So ye have to do the dance just to get 'im to pay attention to ye? Fock Connor, I'm right here. I'd move heaven and earth just for a kiss from ye. What's wrong with _me_?"

Murphy's heart was breaking and Connor could see it on his face as the lines deepened in his brother's brow and the creases around his mouth. "Nothin', Murph. You're perfect. Absolutely perfect but ye have one flaw. You're me brother. The Lord says that's wrong and its wrong for a man to lay with another man as he does with a woman-"

"Ay!" Murphy interrupted. "The Lord also says thou shalt not kill! How many men have we killed?"

"That doesn't count, Murph. We were doin' the Lord's work," Connor tried to argue.

"Ay, Lord's work. Don't ye think if the Lord really wanted them dead, He could have just struck them down on His own?"

"Ye heard the call just as well as I did! We were the hand of the Lord! He ordered us to kill those men!"

"Did He choose them or did we, Connor? We're already goin' ta Hell!"

The tent flap was nearly ripped open behind Connor. Rough hands were pulling him out, leaving him flat on his back on the dirt as he stared up into Shane's angry face. "What the hell are y'all goin' on about in there? We can hear ya clearly out here!"

"Then ye should fockin' know what we're goin' on about!" Connor swung up at him from being on his back. "Stay away from me brother!"

At the sound of Connor's angry voice, Daryl emerged from his tent, tossing the arrow he had been working on back into the space before running towards the now fighting men on the ground. Rick and Daryl met the two men at the same time with Murphy peaking his head outside of his tent. Angry words were being spewed between the grappling men on the ground, most of which were in Gaelic coming from Connor with Shane shouting at him to at least cuss him out in English. Daryl and Rick looked at each other before each grabbed a man. Daryl drug Connor away, barely missing a flying fist. Rick had Shane on his back, hands holding him down on the ground as he hollered at Daryl to take Connor away.

Daryl grabbed a hold of Connor's arm, dragging him down towards the lake. Connor shot one last look at Murphy before he ducked inside and zipped the tent back up. "What the fuck was that all about? I mean, I know Shane's an ass, but ya can't just go around pickin' fights!" Daryl fussed at him quietly. "Ya got blood all over you and your face is starting to swell. I bet your left eye is gonna swell shut ya dumbass."

"Aw, look at ye carin' 'bout me," he answered snidely. His charming side was gone for the moment.

"Irish." Daryl stopped, turning around to face Connor. "If ya start fights, Rick might kick both you _and_ your brother out, especially since Shane is like his best friend."

"He's been fockin' his wife," Connor muttered as he brushed past Daryl and continued down to the lake.

"Yeah well, I don't know if Rick knows that and ain't no one gonna tell him. That's up to all them. But I don't want ya to get kicked out."

Connor turned as he approached the edge of the lake, grinning widely at Daryl who shuffled his feet as he approached the edge of the woods. "Oh, ay? Ye warmin' up to me, eh?"

"You're a lot better to have around than a lot of people. And…," he hesitated, looking out over the lake and back down at his feet before he muttered quietly, "it's kinda nice to be wanted."

Connor took that for what it was, stilling grinning like a fool, he nodded. He knew that Daryl had a rough past and that his brother had been a complete ass. He had heard the stories around the campfire and no doubt so had Daryl. He knew that he would kill a fucker for saying anything against his brother. And for that man to actually _touch_ his brother in that way… He stripped bare and stepped into the lake, splashing water on himself as Daryl sat down by the riverbank, placing his knife beside him. "So you gonna tell me what had ya swinging on him?"

"He focked me brother." Connor dipped his head down underneath the water, enjoying the coolness on his overheated skin. One thing he hated about Georgia in comparison to Boston or Ireland was the heat. When he came back up for air, the look on Daryl's face was almost comical.

"You're shittin' me. Shane fucked Murphy?"

"Ay. While ye and I were out playin' cowboys and indians, risking our lives for some candy bars, me brother was bending over for that cop. Said it was cause ye and I focked."

Daryl hung his head. "So this is 'cause of me?"

"No. It's cause of me. I shouldn'ta told him that I thought ye were a gift from God. I shouldn'ta said anythin' to him about anything and maybe he would have never noticed." Connor stood in the lake, looking up at Daryl on the shore. "Oy, yer filthy yerself. Don't ye think ye should get some of that off?"

Daryl looked down at himself and shrugged. "I'm all right. Been worse."

"Aw come on. Ain't like I'm gonna hit on ye." With that Connor winked and waded closer to the redneck sitting on the shore line. His naked body glistened as he slowly stepped out of the water, shaking his hair out, making sure to get as much water on the other man as possible.

"Fuck off!" Daryl laughed, standing up to get away, but Connor was faster, grabbing his hand as he stood and bringing the other man in close.

"Come on, Daryl. I promised ye I'd help ye bath when we was out in the woods."

"No. Ya said you'd share your soap with me."

Connor shrugged and started walking backwards, tugging on Daryl's wrist as he went, effectively dragging the other man in with him. "Ye better take off your clothes or they're going to be wet. Then again, they could probably use a good wash too."

"Ya callin' me dirty again?"

"Filthy."

"Bastard," Daryl muttered, desperately toeing off his boots before they made it to the waterline. Socks were next, but he would be damned if he was taking anything else off.

"Come on, Daryl. I won't bite hard, I promise," he said with another wink as he yanked hard on the other's wrist, bringing him closer. His hands went to his belt and pants as the hunter tried to wiggle away, but Connor was faster. He twisted, flinging the other man into the water. As he stood up, shaking his head and wiping the water from his eyes, Connor laughed at him. "I told ye to take off your clothes!"

Daryl grunted, taking his pants and vest off in the water, but leaving his shirt and underwear on. He flung the wet clothes at the bank. "Fucking, Irish," he grumbled, dipping back under the water and scrubbing at his hair. Coming back up for air, he wiped the water off his face, taking the dirt streaks with it.

Connor waded closer to him, tugging on the bottom of his t-shirt. "I feel outnumbered here."

"Ya should. I ain't takin' nothin' else off so don't try it."

He relented, raising his hands in the air in surrender. "Fine fine. Still feels nice to be in t'e water. 'S a lot better than this heat." Daryl nodded his agreement, swimming away a little before ducking under again.

Coming back up, he noticed Connor had swum back to shore and was laying out in the sun. Daryl waded back up, sitting down next to him. "Ya think Murphy and Shane are gonna start a thing?"

Connor shrugged, looking over at him. "Dunno."

"I think it'd be good for him. Dunno about with Shane. He's kinda an asshole, but he kept the group safe." Daryl stared out at the lake. He really did think it would be good for Murphy to have someone else to be attached to other than Connor. Hell, it'd even be good for Connor. The fairer twin had tried to associate with everyone in the group. He had become friendly with several people, not just Daryl. The group was accepting of him, but Murphy was a wild card and they all knew it. They saw Connor as the only person that could control the darker-haired twin and if something happened to Connor, Daryl was afraid of what that could mean for Murphy.

"Ay, suppose you're right. I just don't like the idea of him pawing all over me brother, especially when he showed no former interest. Murph gets attached to people. He's… emotional."

"Yeah, we all noticed. He flips a switch apparently when you're not around. Ain't never really seen much of it myself, but that's what I heard."

"Yeah well, he does that when I'm wit' ye. He's jealous of ye, ya know. Thinks yer out ta steal me."

Daryl snorted at that. "Ain't stealin' nothin'."

"He's me brother. I love him. I just can't love him the way he wants me to."

Daryl nodded his understanding. It would have been weird if Merle had wanted to start a sexual relationship with him. He shook his head at the though, a cold chill moving its way up his spine. He didn't understand the twins' relationship and there was no way in hell he'd even try.

"So was your brother as bad as everyone says he was?"

Daryl thought a moment, looking out over the still waters. "Nah. He was an ass, don't get me wrong. He'd done a lot of bad in his life, but I think some of it got twisted around in his head that he was doin' good. He did all right by me as a kid when he was there, but he wasn't around a whole lot."

"Ay…" Connor thought back on his former life as a Saint and wondered if what Murphy had said was true. They had both felt the calling, but was it them that chose their marks or the Lord? Shaking his head at the thought, his ears perked as a loud shriek echoed from back at the camp. Connor and Daryl looked at each other before scrambling with their clothes. More screams filled their air as gunfire began to erupt. Connor started running, only half dressed screaming for his brother.


	6. Chapter 6

It felt like minutes, a mere string of seconds conveniently pieced together, but as Connor leaned on the handle of a shovel, he knew it had been just under 24 hours. They had lost the camp. They knew it the second that herd of walkers came across their line of tin cans. There would be no ending this. Now they could smell where their little group was hiding and it was on some sort of walker radar.

Daryl stood next to him, downing a bottle of warm water. How he longed for the days with ice. "Should be the last of it, ay?" Daryl just nodded as he picked up his shovel again to keep throwing the dirt over their lost loved ones. The bodies of the herd were burned but that Asian kid, Glenn, insisted upon burying those they knew. Connor and Murphy said silent prayers over the dead bodies as they laid them to rest. It was the very least they could offer to the unfortunately departed.

Murphy had tamed in the past 24 hours, though he noticed Connor taking more comfort in the presence of Daryl than himself. Shane almost subconsciously stood close to him. Murphy wondered if it was out of the fear that he would tear into either Daryl or his brother or if it was some sort of newly developed protective streak since their little encounter in the woods. Murph had intended for it to be a one-time thing, though he didn't actually think the former deputy would go through with it.

A few hours later found them all on the road, headed for Atlanta. It was the hell hole that the MacManus brothers remembered it being, though significantly more creepy. There was the added horror-movie style factor of the entire city being abandoned with cars everywhere. Windows in business buildings were smashed open. Clothes were left on the sidewalks and streets. Anything that people dropped while running away was just left to nature to take over. Connor figured that was God's plan. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust until we rise again. He just didn't think the Bible had meant rise in _this_ way. So if this was the way God had intended for the dead to rise, then were he and Murphy and the rest of this ragtag group really being punished?

When they arrived at the CDC, battered, broken, and barely holding on to hope, Connor decided that yes, they were being punished. This was their purgatory. They sat outside, listening to Shane and Rick scream back and forth at each other; Rick begging the camera that he _swore_ moved to let them inside. Connor sat down, his back to the building as he watched the herd of walkers they had avoided close in on them, and he prayed. His brother sat next to him, rosary in hand, murmuring the words that they both knew by heart.

Closing his eyes, Connor considered praying for a quick death instead of salvation. At the very least, to let him not see his brother and Daryl die. He couldn't bear to see that happen and not be able to do a damn thing about it except for give himself up with them. Opening his eyes, Connor saw the walkers closer; he could smell them as their hands stretched out, reaching for them, their jaws working in anticipation of their meal. Closing his eyes once more, Connor waited for them, reaching over and taking Murphy's hand in his own. He was ready for death.

The door opened behind them, metal creaking as it slowly moved up. Quickly their little group dove underneath it, sighing in relief a they made it through just in time to avoid the walkers. Connor grabbed Murphy, checking him over to make sure he hadn't been bit, scratched, or anything else. Murphy grunted with the inspection before being passed off. Connor grabbed Daryl next, lifting his shirt and turning the man around. Daryl grunted and pushed away, pushing his shirt down over his chest again, while looking nervously at Rick.

Connor sighed, running his hands through his hair, turning to look at the man who had let them in. Rick stepped up to him, introducing himself and everyone else in their group. "Thank you for letting us in."

Daryl watched Connor walk around, inspecting everything. He ran his fingers over the instruments and blinking lights as Jenner introduced himself and told them that there was no cure, but he could offer them safe haven as long as no one was infected.

Three hours later, everyone had been blood tested and the group was sitting around the table, eating real food and blissfully drinking their problems away. Murphy, Connor, and Daryl all shared a bottle of whiskey. The rest of the group killed multiple bottles of wine. The merriment lasted far into the night as stomachs grew warmer and hands started travelling. The women were the first to leave, excusing themselves to bed or to get their children ready for sleep. They finally had real beds with hot showers and clean clothing. Shane stalked off after Lori. Connor didn't miss the way his brother's blue eyes followed after the other man. Daryl's hand on his arm stopped the chastising words in his throat. What a hypocrite he would be to say anything to his Murph when the mere warmth of Daryl's hand ignited a fire in his body.

Turning to face Daryl, he smiled lazily. "Allow me to escort ye to your room," he said. Murphy snorted snidely next to them.

"Nah, I'm all right," he said before standing. "And just to be sure ya Irish asses don't finish this without me, I'm takin' it with me." He grabbed the bottle, swayed slightly, and stumbled off towards the dorm rooms.

"Ye aren't givin' up are ye?" Murphy asked quietly.

"No," Connor whispered to him, looking across the table as Rick eyed him through his glassy, drunk gaze.

Rick turned to Jenner, thanking him profusely for sharing his wealth with them before he stumbled off himself. Murphy and Connor sat with the rest of the group awhile longer, enjoying the stories that everyone was telling in their moments of drunken looseness. Their group was strong as a cohesive unit. Deep down, Connor knew they could survive this purgatory together as long as they all stayed strong and dedicated to each other. They had developed this little family and he wasn't going to let anything tear it apart. He regarded Jenner through his fuzzy mind. The man looked withdrawn, not exactly partaking in the merriment that everyone else was enjoying. He looked…. almost depressed.

Murphy stood up next to him, stretching before excusing himself for bed, giving his brother a subtle glance. Connor stood up with him, with the intention to see his brother to bed and to find the hunter. "Come to bed wit' me, Connor," Murphy smirked as they came to their door. His brother's hands reached for his hips. Connor smirked, running his hands down his brother's arms.

"Ay, I'll be in soon."

"No. Don't go to him tonight, brother. Stay with me." Murphy pulled on him, bringing his drunk warm body crashing into his. His mouth found his cheek, kissing it wetly before trailing down to his lips. Connor didn't take the pleasure in the kiss as he had before. His mind strayed to the other man. Closing his eyes, he could almost imagine the mouth on his being Daryl's and he responded to it, even grinding a bit into his brother's touch, eliciting a deep moan from the darker haired twin. "I can be everythin' for ye, Con, if ye let me."

Connor opened his eyes, pulling back from his brother. "No, Murph. Ye can't." He pulled away completely, opening the door behind his brother. "Go ta bed. I'll be in soon." He left him standing there in the hallway as he went on the search for the hunter. Turning the corner, he stumbled into Shane. Grabbing the other man for balance, he saw the scratch marks on his neck. "Ye all right?" he asked, gesturing towards his neck.

Shane put his hand up to where Connor motioned, pulling back to see small traces of blood. "Yeah, man. Just got into a fight with Lori. I'm all right," he smiled and continued on down the hallway.

Connor eyed him as he went, something seeming just a tad off about him. "Oy, ye seen Daryl?"

Shane stopped, bracing himself against the wall. "Yeah, he was talking with Rick in his room just down there."

Connor nodded and continued on his way as Shane turned the corner. As he neared the open door, he could hear their low voices. Stopping just out of sight of the open doorway, he listened. "Nah, man. I dunno… it's nothin' really."

"Sure don't seem like nothin', Daryl."

"Ain't anythin' ya need to worry 'bout, Rick. Ya already said your piece to me. I get it, okay?"

"I just need you to understand-"

"I understand perfectly. Ya got your wife and your kid. Ain't nothin' else ya need to say."

"I just feel like I need to explain-"

"Look, I get it okay?! Ya don't need ta tell me everyday that ain't nothin' goin' to happen. Was just once. I get it."

"Murphy is a loaded cannon. Just be careful with Connor."

Connor rounded the corner right then. If he was going to be the topic of conversation, he felt like he had the right to be involved. "Ay, be careful with Connor," he said.

Rick startled, turning around to see him in the doorway. "I just meant-"

Connor raised his hands. "Ye don't need to explain yourself there, Sheriff. Daryl should be careful with me, but I can assure ye I only have the purest intentions with your dear hunter there."

Rick nodded, looking down at the floor, his hands on his hips before looking back up at Daryl and again at Connor before pressing past him to leave. "What was that all about?" Connor asked him.

Daryl shrugged his response.

"Ye knew I was listenin' didn't ye?" Daryl just nodded. "Sounded like ye had somethin' goin' there with that Sheriff."

Daryl snorted. "Wasn't nothin'."

"Sounds like it mighta been somethin' to ye," he said quietly. He knew he was treading on thin ice here, but he felt like he needed to know. "If ye want me to back off, just say t'e word. I thought… I didn't know it had gone that far with 'im."

Daryl snorted, retreating farther into the room to grab the bottle of whiskey. "What do ya want, Irish?"

It was Connor's turn to shrug. "We're both a bit drunk. Why do ye think I was lookin' for ye? Put me brother to bed and denied his advances. Kinda seems like your officer friend is a bit jealous, ay?"

Daryl chugged a healthy amount from the bottle. "Ay," he answered, and let out a short laugh.

Connor grinned at the mimicked response, taking the bottle from the other's hands. "Does he have reason to be?" he asked, chugging from the mouth of the bottle himself. The amber liquid burned as it went down, settling warmly in his stomach.

Daryl's face scrunched up as he swayed slightly. "What are ya askin' me, Irish?"

Connor's feet seemed to move on their own accord as he closed the distance between them, setting the bottle down on the closest flat surface. He was surprised when Daryl didn't move away as he wrapped his arms around his waist. "Can I kiss ye, Daryl? Been wantin' to."

Daryl just stood still, his drunk mind clearly processing the situation as Connor leaned in, brushing his their lips together chastely. Pulling back, he noticed the hunter's blue eyes had darkened, his face taking on an almost sinister aura. "Should close the door if you're gonna do that."

Connor released him long enough to retreat back to the door, closing it as instructed. His blood thrummed in his body, warm from just enough alcohol to make bad decisions seem right. Daryl's hands were on him before he could even turn back around, pushing at clothing, trying to get his hands underneath Connor's shirt. In a quick move, he pulled his shirt over his head, pulling Daryl's hands up to his toned chest.

Daryl growled in his ear as Connor turned, feeling the drunk-warm body against his front as their lips found each other again. A cacophony of elicit moans and grunts filled the room as they rutted against each other, pants still on and Daryl still in his shirt. "Could make this easier," Connor whispered, running his hands down to the waistband of the other man's pants.

Daryl grunted, slamming Connor back against the door hard, a hard glare serving as a warning. "Ye want to…. admit it. I can feel it. Its okay, Daryl. We don't have to do anythin', just kiss me." Connor continued to try to use his words to soothe the savage, drunk beast in front of him that he wanted to lay down on the mattress.

"Ain't admitin' nothin'," Daryl grunted, releasing Connor from his grasp and stumbling back towards the whiskey bottle and the bed. "Ya should go back to your brother. If its so okay, why dontcha go fuck him?"

Connor looked down at his feet, putting his hands in his pockets as he leaned casually against the door. "'Cause incest is illegal and he needs to move on."

"Oh? Gonna let him fuck that steroid cop?" Daryl flopped back onto the mattress, his body strewn across it so lewdly Connor wondered if he did it on purpose. Subconsciously, his hand started to stroke his stomach as he spoke, the Irish blue eyes watching every movement and glimmer of skin as his shirt was pulled up.

"Ay, if it makes him happy. He seemed okay with 'im. 'Sides," Connor sauntered up to Daryl, straddling the other man on the bed before leaning down and stealing a gentle kiss. "This is where I'd rather be right now."

Daryl snorted, but responded to the kiss, his hands clutching at his own clothes but making no move to remove them. Connor snaked a hand down his chest as his lips traveled down the prickly jaw to suck on the hunter's sweet, tender neck. Daryl moved as he bit down slightly, using his tongue to sooth the bite. His hand cupped his hard cock through his pants, causing the other man to buck up against him. With firey eyes flinging open, Daryl's scream echoed in the small room. "Fuck off, Irish!" Seconds later, Connor found himself on the floor, his ass aching from the sudden impact.

"Oy! Ye need to get your fockin' head in the game! Don't be leanin' in to me touch and then tellin' me to fock off in the next breath!"

Daryl sat up on the bed, bottle of whiskey leaning against one thigh as he held his head in his hand. "Fuck off back to your room, back to your brother." His words no longer held the vehement anger, but more a sad exhaustion.

Connor stood up, adjusting his clothing before stepping up to the redneck and risking running a hand through his hair. Daryl barely flinched at the touch, almost as if he were expecting it. "Get some sleep, Daryl. I'll be around the corner if ye need somethin' warm to cuddle with."

He made no move as Connor walked towards the door, giving only a single glance as he turned the knob. Daryl wanted to shout at him. He wanted to tell him that he wasn't gay, he didn't do those things with men, he wasn't interested in him or any of them for that matter, but at the same time he wanted him to stay. He was _wanted_, not needed for any of his skills. Hell, as far as Connor knew, he was shit in the sack with a small dick to match. For a split second Daryl allowed his eyes to meet Connor's, almost begging him for forgiveness and just more time. He needed more time.

Connor just smirked at him, blowing him a kiss before walking out the door, closing it behind himself. He listened for a moment, but he didn't hear any movement on the other side. Daryl wasn't coming after him; he didn't shout for him to come back. With a sigh of slight disappointment, he turned, intending to go back to his room where Murphy was no doubt waiting up for him. That is unless he went looking for his sheriff friend.

"Connor."

He froze in midstep. Turning around, he was met with the angry face of an inebriated Rick Grimes. "Can I have a word with you?"


	7. Chapter 7

Murphy sat alone in the room that he would be, nay should be, sharing with his brother. He had taken the liberty of pushing the twin beds together in the hopes that Daryl would still push him away and Connor would come crawling back, drunk and horny.

So he sat. He watched the patterns that he would draw in the carpet with his toes, trying to make little animals or shapes and fairly succeeding. Looking at the clock, he realized it had been over half an hour. Standing up, he quickly walked across the room and opened the door, hoping to find his brother slumped against the wall next to it, too ashamed to come inside.

Instead he was met with emptiness and quiet. Murphy sighed, refusing to acknowledge the thought that his brother had succeeded in working his way into Daryl's bed. The hallway was dark save for the one doorway down the hall. The door to the room down the hall was open, so he crept down, peeking his head in, trying to remember who had taken this room. Shane lay prone on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, still fully clothed. "Oy," Murphy called out. "Why are ye still awake?"

Shane lifted his head up to look at the Irish man down the length of his body. "Could ask you the same thing. Why don't you go on back to your brother?"

"'Cause he's with Daryl." Murphy's head hung as he walked all the way into the open doorframe.

"Fuck," Shane breathed, closing his eyes. "They're really gonna start somethin', ain't they? Well shit."

Murphy shrugged. "Well he hasn't come back yet. Maybe they're just playin' checkers."

Shane snorted, sitting up on the bed a little too fast. Pressing his hand to his forehead, trying to still the swirling motion of the room, he motioned for the Irishman to come in. "Close the door wouldya? I'd hate to think I could hear the sounds of your brother and Daryl fuckin'. The last thing I want to hear is that redneck get off."

Murphy tried to ignore the hurtful remarks of the other as he stood awkwardly just inside the room. "Ye coulda closed the door when ye walked in ye know?"

"But then you wouldn't have stumbled into my room, wouldya have my little lucky charm?" Shane motioned him closer, looking at him hazily through lowered eyelids and booze-blown pupils. "You're my fuckin' lucky charm now, ain'tcha?"

"Ain't yer fockin' anything," he stated simply, not moving from his spot on the carpet but bracing himself to stand his ground.

Shane stood up on his shakey legs, pointed finger aiming for Murphy's chest as he stumbled closer to the other man. "Now, now. I broke your little cherry. You said it was better than you thought it was going to be. Don't lie to me, little Lucky Charm."

Murphy couldn't deny that. Shane had taken him and it _was_ better than he thought it ever could be. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, carefully regarding the other man. "Aye, 'twas."

Shane's arms came around his waist, pulling his hips in against him. "Let me treat you real good then. We got some stuff we could use as lube. I can make it even better. And since Daryl is entertaining Connor tonight, seems like you're free."

Murphy wanted to punch him. He wanted to just beat the snot out of him for even suggesting it, but the thing was… he was right. Connor had clearly moved on, even to the point of pulling away from his touch. The brother's had never pulled away from each other's touch before tonight. And Shane was right. The last thing _he_ wanted to hear was Daryl's throes of passion with Connor's name on his lips.

However, Shane's lips found his earlobe, kissing a wet trail down his neck and back up. "I can make you scream little lucky charm. Make Connor realize what a fine piece of ass he's missing."

"Ay, Rick. We can talk right here."

"I'd rather go into a room."

"And I'd rather not." Connor stood his ground, crossing his arms over his still bare chest. He didn't want to get pulled into a room where it could turn into a potential physical confrontation if he didn't have to.

Daryl opened the door on their Mexican standoff, peeking his head out and looking at them both. "If y'all are goin' to have this argument, do it in here so ain't no one else that can hear ya. Fuckin' embarrassin'."

Connor smirked at being allowed back in Daryl's room, hoping that he could get Rick to leave and they could possibly continue what they had already started just a few short minutes ago. Daryl reached down to the floor, grabbing the crumpled up black fabric of Connor's shirt and tossing it at him before stumbling back on the bed with his bottle of whiskey. "Don't know what y'all'd be fightin' for anyway."

Rick side-eyed him as he watched Connor put his shirt back on. "Not fighting, Daryl. I just want to have a simple conversation. Perhaps its time the MacManus brothers move on."

"And leave this posh place? Get the fock out. This place is a gold mine. Warm running water and booze? Officer I think me brother and I have found a right nice home."

Daryl watch the two men closely, standing in front of each other, one staring the other down. "Rick, ya can't be serious. Ya know ain't no one can survive on their own now. We barely even made it here."

"I think Connor and his brother survived well enough before they came up on you in the woods a couple weeks ago." Rick walked a step forward into Connor's space, daring the other man to make a move.

Connor looked defeated as he stared hard at their supposed leader. He knew what this was about and it wasn't fair to either him or Daryl. "Look, if ye want Daryl to yourself, all ye have to do is say t'e word. But I think it should be up ta Daryl. He's not your fockin' lap dog that will do what ye say all t'e time. There's no reason to be punishing me brother for my feelings towards someone else." Connor looked at Daryl before looking back over at Rick. "If he chooses ye, then I'll go."

Daryl scoffed, "Now ya want me to fuckin' choose between the two of you? _Fuck_, man." He looked towards the ceiling before looking back at both men who still stood by the door. Rick's face held the look of determination of keeping what was his. Connor already looked defeated, like he knew there was no way he was going to win this. But you know what? Fuck that. He was Daryl fuckin' Dixon and ain't no one owning him. "Rick ya already done told me that ya don't want me. What we did that one night… it was just that. One night. You keep makin' it fuckin' clear that it was one night. Connor… he's done right by me. He ain't pushy and he's real good at helpin' me hunt and go on runs even if he is an Irish pain in the ass."

Rick said nothing. He just nodded once before giving Connor a final look, turning and walking out the door once again.

Connor let out a breath of air, feeling like he had just been saved from a bullet. "I have a feelin' that isn't over," he whispered, mostly to himself, but he knew Daryl was listening. "Thank ye… for that. Ye didn't have to-"

Daryl waved him off. "That was shitty of him to say to you. Ya ain't done nothin' to him 'cept watch his back and bring back candy bars for his kid."

"Ay, well apparently flirting with ye is off limits. You're forbidden fruit, Daryl." Connor nodded at him and turned the knob on the door to leave him once again, but Daryl's soft "wait" stopped him.

Daryl cleared his throat and looked awkwardly away, motioning towards the bed with his chin. Connor couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or a light blush that colored his cheeks, but at this point he didn't care. "Ye askin' me ta stay?"

"Just… for a bit."

Connor smiled softly, walking over towards the bed and sitting down next to Daryl. Wrapping an arm loosely around his waist, he leaned over, pressing a soft kiss against the drunk warm cheek. "I'll save the gloating for ye choosin' me for tomorrow when we're both sober."

Daryl snorted, leaning into the Irishman slightly. "He wasn't right to kick ya out 'cause of me anyways. The group wouldn'ta went for it. They like ya too much."

"What about ye? Ye like me too much ta see me go?" Connor kicked off his shoes as Daryl yawned, his eyes drifting closed. Reaching down, he pulled off Daryl's boots and socks before laying them both down on the bed.

"Yeah, somethin' like that," came the mumbled response as the hunter buried his face into the soft fabric of the pillow, eyes closed as he inhaled the scent of clean, fresh sheets on a real bed. Connor lay behind him, propped up on his elbow to look down into the other man's face. Carefully, he brushed a finger along his jawline and into the scruffy goatee. "Ya got a thing for touchin…"

Connor jumped slightly at the softly spoken words. "Thought ye were asleep." Wrapping his arm around the other's midsection, he laid down on his side, front pressed against Daryl's back. He pressed a kiss into the back of his neck. "If ye don't want me ta touch, just tell me."

"You'll know."

"Is this okay then?" Connor asked, tightening his grip slightly to let Daryl know what in particular he was talking about.

The answer was a little delayed, as the hunter mulled over his response. "Yeah, 's all right. Just don't get any ideas when I fall asleep."

Connor smiled against Daryl's clean hair. "Only molest ye when you're awake. Got it."

Daryl snorted, but gingerly placed his hand over Connor's on his stomach before closing his eyes.

Murphy wasn't exactly sure how he ended up naked beneath this man a second time, but he was thankful that they were actually on a bed and they were facing each other this time. Shane hand's were warm and sure, moving against his skin as they kissed languidly, as if they had all the time in the world. Murphy's heart broke a little when he remembered how he and Connor had used to kiss like that, especially on Saturday mornings. They would wake up with no plans and nothing to do and just spend hours holding each other, kissing, and discussing stupid, inane things about the world.

But that was gone now. Connor was down the hall with another man. Someone who looked _just_ like him and it was fucking frustrating. Shane was here instead, moving above him, grinding their cocks together in a delicious swivel of muscled hips. Murphy moved his hands down Shane's chest, reveling in the ripple of muscle as his fingertips ghosted over them. He was more built than Connor, more toned. Murphy admired the man on top of him as he moved against his body. His lips were moving, but Murph couldn't hear was he was saying. Tuning himself out of his head and back into the moment, he heard the whispered words of encouragement and flutters of approval roll off Shane's lips. Muttered words of "so beautiful," "so perfect," mixed with "yeah, move your hips like that," and "fuck I love the way you touch me." Connor never said any of those things.

Murphy decided to let himself go.

Reaching his arms around the other's broad chest, he pulled him down, kissing him with a new fervor. Shane met his eagerness, moaning into the kiss as his hips continued to press down into the other's, creating a delicious friction that was going to get him there before he could ever enter the Irishman.

Pulling back to catch his breath, Shane sat up, reaching for the lotion on the nightstand. "Gotta slow down, Lucky Charm. You're gonna make me cum and I ain't ready yet. Fuck you're so beautiful like this."

"Like what?" Murphy breathed, as Shane's hand moved between his legs, two fingers circling his hole before pressing in. Murphy's back arched off the bed, his lips forming a perfect O.

"So open. So wrecked. So needy. You need me, Murph? Huh?" Shane's voice deepened as he slowly worked his fingers inside him. He took his time now. They had a room with a locked door and a bed. No forest floor and no Rick threatening to come back out and check on them.

Murphy groaned at the sound of his name on Shane's lips while they were like this, with his fingers deep inside, stretching him, opening him. Fuck he could cum just like this.

"Want ye inside me, Shane. I want to feel ye. We got time now," Murphy breathed, spreading his legs wider.

Shane nodded, taking his hand away and adding more lotion so he could lube himself up. "Yeah, we got all night, baby, my little charm. Just for you." Murphy tensed slightly as he felt the blunt head of the cock at his entrance. Shane trusted shallowly, pressing the head in slightly. "Let go baby, it's okay. I got you. Don't tense on me now." Shane's arms came up around his shoulders, holding him in place as his lips found purchase on Murphy's pulse point on his neck. With a gentle nip and suck on his neck, Murph loosened up with a moan, allowing Shane's cock entrance.

His hands tightened on the strong back, fingernails dangerously close to leaving marks as he felt the shaft press all the way in. A string of mumbled curse words in various languages tumbled from the Irishman's mouth as Shane held still, allowing him to get used to accommodating his girth. "Tell me when I can move, Murph. God, you're so beautiful like this." Taking a hand, Shane brushed dark hair out of blue eyes, kissing his swollen and panting lips while he both praised and cursed him in a language the other would never understand.

Shane pressed his hips in slightly before pulling back, creating an agonizingly slow rhythm as Murphy still tried to hold on to the outer reaches of his own sanity. On one pull out, his cock head brushed against the prostate, sending a wave of pleasurable mini-convulsions throughout his body. "Fock, do that again," he breathed, wrapping his legs around the other's waist.

Shane grinned down at him, looking down into those beautiful blue eyes as he tried to find that spot again, slowly speeding up his thrusts. Quiet grunts filled the air as they moved together. Shane wrapped a hand around Murphy's cock, using a mix of remaining lotion, spit, and pre-cum to stroke him semi-in time with his thrusts.

Murphy's moans slowly escalated in volume as he moaned out what sounded like prayers in Gaelic. In a desperate move, he hooked a leg through Shane's and flipped them over, sinking himself all the way down on the strong cock still inside him.

Shane grinned up at him, grabbing his hips and thrusting up hard. Murphy threw his head back and screamed as he pressed his hands into the chiseled chest beneath him for balance. His orgasm surprised him as it rushed through his body, screaming out Shane's name to the rafters as his whole body convulsed with the force of it, cum spurting all the way up onto the other's chin. "Shit, Murph. You all right?" Shane asked, with a slight smirk.

"Holy fockin… fockin' cum all ready ya jackass," he groaned out as Shane started to thrust into him again.

"Workin' on it," he grinned, flipping them back over and pounding himself home. His second orgasm with the Irishman was eons better than the first. He felt his balls draw up against his body, allowing him to control his thrusts to draw out the build-up sensation as long as he could. With a muffled shout and stout thrusts, he spilled his hot seed deep within Murph.

As he lay against Murphy, petting his hair gently, the Irishman whispered, "Ye like cumming in me ass, do ye?"

Shane smirked, pulling out and rolling over to grab some tissues from the nightstand to wipe them both off with. "Always better to come inside than out. It's still warm inside." Shane stood up to toss out the soiled tissues. Turning off the light, he climbed back into the bed, still naked. Pulling Murphy over to him, they wrapped their arounds around each other, Murphy's head instantly finding Shane's shoulder, exactly like how he had sleep next to Connor for so many years.

Sighing in contentment, both men started to drift off into a peaceful sleep, but one thought kept rolling through Murphy's head that just begged asking. "Would ye let me fock ye?" he asked quietly.


	8. Chapter 8

Connor wasn't sure what time it was when he woke, but he knew that he was warm, in a soft bed, and had a hand around his hard cock. He groaned involuntarily as a thumb swept over his dripping head, bringing the precum down the shaft to make the motion easier. Connor squeezed his eyes shut, working his tongue in his mouth to get enough spit together to tell Murph that they just _can't_ and why can't he get it through his thick skull… But when he opened his eyes, before he could speak, he found the tanned, clean face of his hunter over him.

Connor lost his words in that moment as his hips thrusted up into the loose grasp. Daryl was here. He had let him stay the night and woken him up in one of the most wonderful of ways. "Daryl," he groaned out, hooded eyes watching as the bright blues of the man above him came to focus on his face. Connor pulled him down by the back of his neck, kissing his lips tenderly as his body tensed. "Fuck," he breathed against Daryl's lips. The hand on his cock had paused at the sudden kiss but picked up again with fervor now that his target was awake. It took seconds for Connor's body to release in hot spurts of fluid across his abdomen. Trying to regain his breathing and regular heart beat, the Irishman brushed the growing hair out of his hunter's eyes, bringing him down for another soft kiss. "Well that was a great way to wake up this morning," he smiled, his body sated in more ways than one.

Daryl snorted, rolling back over and giving Connor his back. "Couldn't sleep with that poking me in the hip."

"Aye, tis a monster that. Hand me my shirt so I can wipe this off?" Daryl reached down to the floor, tossing a shirt back to him, but never turning back around. Connor was careful to wipe himself off and tuck himself back into his pants before rolling onto his side, wrapping an arm around Daryl's waist again. Warm lips found his shoulder as they travelled up to his neck, leaving soft kisses in his wake.

"Con- don't-" Daryl started to protest.

"What? Ye think I'm just goin' ta let ye jack me off and then let ye go back ta sleep? Ye were the one that said I liked ta touch." His hand moved down the hunter's chest, caressing him through the thin cotton of the t-shirt before Daryl's own hand abruptly stopped him just above his waistline.

"Connor, don't." His voice was soft, eyes still closed to the world.

Connor looked down at Daryl's face as it twitched beneath him. He couldn't tell if the other man was scared, intimidated, or just really wasn't interested, but he was going with the first two. So he intertwined their fingers at Daryl's lower stomach, clutching his hand tightly as he pressed his body into his back. "I won't do anything ye don't want me to. Jus' happy ta be here with ye."

He didn't want to sit here, arms wrapped around the man that had consumed his thoughts since he had met him, wondering what all that had just meant. Surely if his middle of the night hard on bothered him that much he would have awoken Connor and sent him on his way. Had he been hoping that Connor wouldn't wake up at all?

He had forgotten how sleeping on his side as the "big spoon" was such a pain in the ass. This was why he now slept on his back and Murph curled into his side. His left arm that was horribly positioned beneath him was starting to go numb, but Daryl's breathing had evened out and his sleep-warm body even started to relax back into his own. Connor shifted, cursing his own inability to ignore his body's needs. Rolling over onto his back, he had to carefully remove his hand from Daryl's. Sighing, he adjusted himself to be comfortable, trying to think of a way to get the other man turned around to face him.

"'S wrong?" Daryl mumbled sleepily, reaching back blindly for him.

Connor startled at the sudden words, but quickly grabbed Daryl's hand as it patted at him. "Me arm was fallin' asleep."

Daryl hmmphed once before rolling over onto his other side to face Connor, eyes still closed. "Oh okay," he mumbled, placing his hand on Connor's chest before relaxing back into deep sleep. With a soft tug, the hunter collapsed into the the warmth of the man beneath him, only opening his eyes momentarily at the new position. Connor wrapped his arm around Daryl's back, adjusting them both into a more comfortable position, easing the other's head towards his shoulder. Daryl's body was heavy against his, his breath ghosting over his collarbone. He wasn't sure what the morning would hold for them, so he lay, enjoying the moment with the warmth laying against him. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift, thinking of the surprising softness of Daryl's hand around his cock as he sank into sleep.

Murphy woke with a start, the strong arms around him tightening slightly. "'S wrong?" Shane asked sleepily behind him.

Murphy's heart beat fast in his chest as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, remembering why he was here. He relaxed slowly, trying to squelch the desire to return to his room to see if Connor had returned in the night. "Nothin'," he answered.

Shane adjusted behind him, raising up on his arm to look down into the blue eyes. "You want to go see if your brother came back from Daryl's room?"

Murphy bit his lip, but nodded. How could this man read his thoughts like that? Shane released his grip, running his hand down the other's arm. "You can go. You can come back if he ain't in there. If you want… you know." He rolled over, giving Murph his back.

Like a shot, he was up and out of the room. Flinging open his door, he flipped on the light. The beds were still shoved together, blankets untouched from where he had left them. With a sigh, he flipped the light back off. Connor never came back. That could only mean that he had spent the night in Daryl's room. He was tempted to just crawl in their bed and wait, but he knew that he would just be sitting there thinking, laying awake, waiting for his brother to stumble back into the room, which would probably not happen.

Reluctantly, he made his way back down the hallway, shutting the door to Shane's room behind him. "Guess he wasn't there." Shane's voice was muffled by the pillow, but he didn't move.

Murphy stood by the door still, his anger and frustration beginning to grow in his chest. He took the closest thing to him- a shoe- and tossed it, enjoying the solid thunk sound it made as it hit the wall. Any object within his reach became a projectile as he destroyed the room, cursing his brother's name and Daryl. Shane watched calmly from the bed as Murphy's tantrum escalated, Gaelic words being thrown in with the English. When he was done, he stood, chest heaving with his efforts. "Ya done?"

Murphy had almost forgotten the other man was in the room. "Aye. Suppose."

"Good, now get your ass back in this bed. It got cold when you left." He lifted the sheets, waiting patiently for the other man to obey his request.

Murphy grunted, but slowly made his way over, realizing he had never properly redressed himself in the first place. The sheets had definitely cooled where he had laid, but the blankets were warm and smelled like Shane. "What do ye want from me?"

Shane grunted as he wrapped an arm around Murph's waist, pulling the other man into his body. "Sleep right now. Hungover as hell."

Murph waited, chewing on his thumbnail absent mindedly. "But what do ye _want_?"

Shane grunted again, realizing he clearly was not going to be allowed to go back to sleep until he assuaged Murphy's worried mind. "I don't know, Murph. I don't. It just happened with you, okay?"

He snorted. "Ye call me Murph in front of Connor and ye might get a fist in your face."

"Should I just call you my little lucky charm then?"

Murphy snorted again. "Might get more than a fist then."

Shane sat up, looking down at the other man in the darkness. "We can just leave this like it is right now and once we walk out that door in the morning never look at each other again. Or we can figure it out as we go. Whatever the fuck it is, I'd like to go back to sleep."

"I didn't think ye were gay."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, how does your brother put up with you?"

"Lord's name!"

Shane sighed. "I'm not gay. Didn't think you and your brother being all religious would be gay either."

"Ay… Connor… he says he doesn't want me to burn in hell with him for these feelings, but I can't help it."

With a grunt, Shane pulled the smaller Irish man onto his chest, wrapping his strong arms around him again. "Now that we got that out of the way, how about we sleep? Makin' my head hurt more with all your talkin'."

Murphy squirmed around a bit until he got comfortable, but he would be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy the feeling of the strong chest beneath him. He felt the arms loosen around him as Shane's breathing evened out. Try as he might, he couldn't stop his mind from racing. He wondered if Shane would be exactly what he needed to get Connor's interest once again. Jealousy might be a sin as well, but he knew exactly what could get Connor going.

The morning was harsh for everyone. Bleary, red eyes stared down into the eggs that T-Dog was making everyone for breakfast. Real food and they would be damned if they weren't going to eat it, but man did it not sound good at the moment. Murphy and Shane were two of the last people to join the group. Everyone asked about the scratch marks on Shane's neck, but he waved it off as something he must have done in his sleep. Connor eyed him, knowing the truth but not calling him out on it.

Daryl nudged him with his elbow, flicking his eyes back up to Shane and Murphy. Both men knew what had undoubtedly transpired between the two, but who were they to really talk? At this point though, Connor knew that his Murph had gone farther than he had with another man and he wasn't quite sure how he was going to take that knowledge. Their group eyed them cautiously, fully aware of the storm that could potentially be brewing between the brothers and their new love interests.

The day progressed slowly as they all tried to alleviate their hangovers. Jenner had asked that they gather in the main console room. He demonstrated how the infection spread, which was fascinating really, but instead of watching the screen, Connor watched the way his brother sat next to Shane. Shane's hand casually rested on the back of Murphy's chair, already claiming what had once been his and by all rights, still was. Murphy was still his brother and nothing was going to change that. His gaze shifted as Daryl stood next to Rick, already conscious of how close the other man was to someone that was apparently a former lover, even if it was only one night. That one night apparently meant something to their self-imposed leader, though he was apparently not willing to admit to it.

Looking over at Rick's wife, Lori, he could see how the woman could be considered attractive to the officer. She was rail thin, but they were all eating less these days. Their boy was smart and coming into his teenage years. No doubt that was draining on their relationship in this fucked up world. Teenagers are a pain in the ass anyways, but worrying about surviving adding into the equation made it even worse, no doubt.

Suddenly, the whole group started screaming, shouting at Jenner. Daryl took off for the door, banging against it. Connor was lost. He had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't caught what had been said. Shane was shouting; Rick was calling for everyone to go get their stuff as metal doors shut down on them, blocking the corridors.

T-Dog had joined Daryl at the doors, both men grabbing objects to throw and beat with, demanding that they open the doors. Connor immediately looked for Murphy in the mayhem, who was already on his way over to his twin. "Con, we got to go. This man is nuts. We have to find a way out," Murphy whispered to him. Connor looked back over at T-Dog and Daryl banging on the doors as Shane raced over to them, grabbing Daryl and pulling him away. His protective instincts kicked in, grabbing Murph and racing towards Jenner. "Open t'e focking doors!" he shouted, Rick right next to him, demanding the same thing.

Jenner calmly told them that the doors were shut and it would all be over soon. None of them would turn. They would all be saved.

"Fock your savin'!" Connor screamed and randomly started pressing buttons on the console in front of him. Everyone started yelling again, the people closest to the console pressing buttons as Jenner shouted at them to stop. The countdown clock on the wall slowly nearing zero. "Should be our fockin' choice how we go!" Connor continued, tears threatening to fall. His Murph… Daryl… they couldn't go out like this. After last night… he wanted to see. He wanted a chance.

Slowly the door started to rise. Daryl was shouting for Connor, Shane for Murphy as the group started to run for safety. They blasted through the bulletproof glass with a grenade from Carol's bag that she had confiscated from Rick's bag of guns. The ground shook beneath them as they ran a hard run for the cars, dodging walkers along the way. With wide eyes everyone watched as the CDC burned after the blast. Connor climbed in the truck with Daryl, watching as Murphy sat in Shane's jeep.

So that was how it was. Connor had to be content with Murphy being alive. Looking over the center console at Daryl, both men's blue eyes were wide with horror as Daryl started the car and lead the charge away.


End file.
